


Get Your Act Together

by SkullCandy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkullCandy/pseuds/SkullCandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trolls and humans all live on the same planet, and even better, all go to the same Secondary School! The main character here is the one and only Karkat Vantas, who is bullied over his short temper and a little bit of extra chub he has on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, this story may become triggering to some people! You have been warned!!  
> Also, the first few chapters are going to be a little short, thanks! :3

School sucks. So bad.  
You walk into school and everyone there thinks they own the fucking joint, especially a particularly annoying 'cool kid' named Dave Strider. Though in other words, your stupid, douche-ass ex boyfriend who raped you at his 16 birthday party. What a dick.  
Since then you've always had on-off depression, you even tried a cut or two but hey, you never went there went there.  
You think.  
Summer break ended three weeks ago, the date you've been dreading for the whole the months.  
Three weeks on things progressed from worse to quite bad.  
This year they're even picking on how your jazzy turtle neck makes you look like you need to lose a few pounds, even though you've never been fat.  
It's called curvy.  
So there you are, walking in, and already the humans are on you.  
Trolls in this school are treated like trash, by everyone, even the respectable ones like Kanaya Maryam, the Fashion Goddess, or Equius Zahhak, the fittest guy ever.  
You have no special aspect, actually, you're a mutant. The dark red beginning to form over your once-bkack eyes is telling everyone, or soon will, because they're going to go the exact same color as your blood.  
Candy apple fucking red.


	2. Cool kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat thinks about how much or prejudice is shown towards trolls in general and begins to judge the cool kids on how they're going to act towards him this year, remembering stories from his older brother and father about before trolls even had rights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story line will soon pick up, I promise! And I type my stories and upload them from my phone, and with school everything gets a little hard and mixed up so just bear with me!

You flash your soon-to-be-red eyes around your new, but crappy little Year Base. Shabby lockers lined against the dull blue gray painted walls, with one small window and one glass door exiting out into a long hall.  
Welcome to year 3 Karkat, you think to yourself. This is going to suck, literally.

There's a bare notice board in the stuffy room with one sheet of laminated paper stapled to it, you're assuming that it's the Master Time Table, but to your luck, your favorite douce-ass ex boyfriend and his douce-ass friends are standing around it doing whatever they do.  
Your mind begins to wander as you think about them, standing in what from now will be your corner unless you go hide in the library, which you sometimes do. Only one troll hangs with the Cool Kids, and legitimately holds the title of Cool Kid, awarded by Dave Strider himself. No one (by no one, you mean just you) has any idea why.  
You shuffle uncomfortably when you get pulled out of your train of thought as a few more pairs of eyes latch onto you. You pick at your sleeves, looking down with a scowl that could break a mirror.  
The uncool troll with the uncool clothes, with tiny pathetic horns with pathetic anger issues that everyone loves to laugh at. Yup, that's you, Karkat Vantas in a nutshell.   
Your train of thought picks up again as you begin thinking of the teachers and new classes. There were no non-human teachers. Not one troll, actually, unless they hired new staff during summer, which was unlikely. None of the teachers knew much about trolls, besides one which was married to one.  
Not only could the teachers fail to recognize that they knew nothing about trolls, they actually showed prejudice and always turned a blind eye to the human kids if they happened to be picking on a troll kid.  
But, as your dad and brother Kankri often tell you, things were hell if a lot worse before you were born. Trolls were actually considered as pets 7 sweeps ago, though dogs probably got more recognition as people then trolls did back then.   
You've seen your dad's scars. His worst ones are wringing his wrists, massive, puckered ugly burn scars which make you feel faint just looking at them. Your dad said that as punishment, his owners used to put him in white hot handcuffs and beat him. It was ridiculous. And still is. 

Now, though, by law, trolls have the same righs as humans, thanks to activists and strikes and all sorts of other political problems like that. But the sadest thing is, in your opinion, is that none of these laws and rights can save a troll from the real world, no matter how pretty they look on paper.


	3. Speakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first bell rings and Karkat has to go to class.

Wishing more then anything that you hadn't let Kankri borrow your headphones, you open your locker and throw all your crap into it. Still going without checking the timetable, you rely on Nepeta Leijon's unmistakeably quirky voice tell you what classes you have, since she's in the same ones as you. You don't have to bone bulge to face Dave Strider and his iron Cool Kid Brigade yet. And probably never will, actually.  
Maths, English, Science.  
Your three least favorite classes in all of school. You have nine, forty minute classes every day and by far those are worst.   
You've always been bad at Maths. English is just super boring and HE is in your Science class, not to mention that he will probably be your partner for practical work, again.

You wait for twenty minutes, avoiding people and ignoring their remarks. The bell finally goes and you shoot out, even though it's shitty maths class first thing on a Monday morning. You half run to the room, half the class is already there, all the other Looser in the year are in this class, like Vriska Serket, Aradia Megido and John Egbert. Just like last year, as you pass some of the cooler or middle tier kids, you get "Speakeeeerrs" yelled at you. Your name is Karkat Vantas, but not to these people.


	4. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Karkat sits in class bored out of his skull, his PTSD causes him to have a flashback of the night that changed him for good. It's a little bit gruesome in my opinion, so please be warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been away for so long! But anyway, I think I have big things in store for this one! I found the book with all my drafts in it and I'm ready to start uploading.

You sit at the very back of the class room, on your own. You don't need people, you can do just fine on your own, if not better.  
The teacher is 10 minutes late into class, and since it's the first day, all the ignorant prick starts to talk about is the layout of the fucking textbook. You've been in school half an hour and you already wish you were out.   
You rest your chin in your palm and begin to stare out blankly. Your heart begins to race as you begin to think back to the party. You never think about the party of your own accord, in fact you try to push it to the back of your mind and forget about it, you only ever seem to think about it at the worst moments, and as soon as your heart begins to race you know there's n op stopping it and you just need to live through it, nothing stops the flashbacks, it doesn't matter how hard you cry.

The flashbacks always start when you're getting ready for the party. You live it again and again, every single time, and it's so vivid that sometimes you can't even tell that it's a flashback until it leaves you curled into the fetal position choking on your own tears.   
You are gazing sidewards into the mirror in your bathroom wringing your eyes in kohl liner. Your hair is gelled into crazy spikes and you have fishnet gloves on, and the outfit that makes a good party, you had cracked out your torn-to-fuck-skinnies and a neon red tutu. It certainly wasn't your prettiest phase, but it usually didn't matter since everyone was pissed drunk anyway.  
Your father and your brother have no idea what you were planning to do, you leave without even saying goodbye to them anyway,and at least they know you're leaving this time.  
It doesn't take you too long to trot over to your (ex)boyfriend's house, puffing a cigarette as you go along. It's 6:00pm on December 3, it's pitch dark as you enter the building that Dave's apartment is situated in and you can hear the bass as you huff up the stairs, it's amazing how the brothers can convince all the old people that share the building with them to allow them to play music as loud as that all night. When you reach the landing, you don't bother knocking, you just barge right in, the party is already in full swing, and it won't be ending for another 10 hours. The Striders' apartment is huge, and manages to house about 80 drunk teenagers and young adults.   
You can catch Dave swinging a bottle of vodka and getting close to a group of girls, you don't like to think about the fact that he would always do that. His shades are pushed up and his button up shirt hangs open, exposing a few pink, freshly healed bite marks courtesy of your last ride. You decide to ditch the tutu and the gloves last minute so off they go, leaving you practically naked in your jeans, which showed more flesh then they covered up. You soon catch each others eyes and it's almost as if a flame ignites. The sexual tension is real, and everyone around you can feel it.

The first thing you do is take the drink Dave is offering you, vodka, no problem, you press the hard glass rim to your lips and drink it back as if it were water. Your throat is raw as you reach the 750ml mark and tears stream, but that doesn't stop you achieving the impossible goal for some, swinging a liter straight. It hits you straight away, you drop the bottle with a faint klunk and you sway to the side, straight into your albino dream boat. He's obviously been drinking for a while, you can smell it on his breath and see it in his eyes that all sobriety is gone and you're not far behind.  
The next part is always a blur, it passes quickly. There is dancing, more alcohol, some serious chairing and soon you are forced to experience that fearful event for maybe the eightieth time by now. The music is loud, and your head is hot and light, there is a veil of sweat all over your body, the whole apartment is sweltering. Dave leads you to his bedroom, it was locked up to protect his privet stuff and he gives you a firm shove, then locks you both in. You don't see where he puts the key. You're too drunk to even stand still. Before you can realise what is going on, Dave is all over you. No words, he's too intoxicated for that. His hands are gauche with the vast amount of alcohol he had ingested. His hands are yanking at your pants and it doesn't take long for them to tug them off, despite your protests. His mouth has latched itself to the base of your throat, his teeth holding your flesh rigidly. You protest and cry out drunkenly. You can't even hear yourself because of the powerful music that it blasting through the whole apartment, no one can help you, and you can't even help yourself, the alcohol has numbed your body and you are your own prisoner. He pins you down with one elbow to your narrow chest as he arranges himself into a more comfortable position.   
As he begins to push himself into you, dry, your fear begins to take over. You stop fighting and cry harder instead, Dave doesn't seem to notice, he's thrusting wildly, you can barely feel anything and there's a metallic smell in the air and you suppose that's blood.  
It feels as if this rape goes on for hours, you begin to feel more and more pain with each thrust, until the pain feels almost white-hot. Eventually, Dave collapses in an exhausted heap on top of you, treating this as if it were just some normal sex. You begin to cry again, almost hysterically as the pain takes a firm grip on you.

You snap out of it, your maths teacher has a strong but gentle grip on your shoulders and he is kneeling in front of you, and he is crooning your name. You can barely hear him and tears are streaming heavily down your face. Your dad had everyone informed of your "PTSD that appeared out of nowhere", so all the teachers know that they just need to try calm you down, no biggie.  
You are not looking forward to the rest of the day.


End file.
